OBSESSION
by RandomKreativitee
Summary: Hera has sworn fidelity to her husband, Zeus. But, what good is that to the mortal whose very nature obsesses everyone in its path?
1. Prologue

_No one knew from where it had came - the baby with the wide, gray eyes, cheeky smile, and sparse black hair. An ordinary baby caught in an odd, perhaps unfortunate, series of events that had led some "no-good-for-nothing" mother to abandon her child. And "such an adorable child" as the one they all crowded around, the mothers were quick to announce._

_The one question that everyone thought, but were, in fear of appearing selfish, afraid to speak was: Who will care for this child?_

_ The night was cool, and a gust of breeze passing by made one of the concerned woman in attendance step forward. Gently, bending at the waist, she tugged the blanket higher on over the baby's plump body. As if to thank her, the baby honored her with a wide, toothless smile. Immediately, she clutched her heart, and fell to her knees. And in that moment, her heart overflowed with love that she had never thought possible, she decided that she would care for it. If only to earn that same smile, once more._

_And it had been decided, without much protest, that Noamora would care for the babe._

And so she had.

With all the experience that her 16 years had afforded her, she pampered the baby. She breast fed him; clothed him; changed him; taught him to read, write, walk, speak (she made sure to let the whole village know when he said 'Mama'), how to cook, sew, and iron; and how to fight, ride a horse, and shoot a bow.

And she took pride in the fact that she had accomplished this all alone.

They lived, together, alone but not secluded, in a cottage that Noamora had built on the outskirts of the village; just her and 'Anon'. That's what she had christened him. It meant 'soon' - for what, she did not truly know, but she always believed that he was destined for great things, soon. And that's what she had named him.

The villagers, perhaps feeling guilty for not immediately offering to rear the babes themselves, provided her with enough comfort, so that she could focus solely on her main luxury: Anon. Anything she needed, they would provide. She could walk into any store, or up to any stand or stall at the market, and take as much goods as she could carry - free of charge. When it rained, snowed, sleeted, or hailed, brave men would trek up to her cottage armed with food, firewood, and bundles of home-stitched clothing. As independent as Noamora was, she saw the valuable time that she was gaining from this service to devote to her precious child.

And this is how they lived for many seasons.


	2. Chapter 1

Anon, nourished by the warm sun of Noamora's smile, and the pure waters of her wisdom, grew as a blade of grass grows when fed by water and sunlight.

He was a very contemplative youth, constantly pondering the mysteries of the world, and doubting the things he knew were most likely true.. And he was _forever_ asking questions. Whatever she told him to do, he would do without a word; but, as she had come to expect, afterwards, the questions would invariably come.

But, she did not mind. Not one bit.

Life was good.

Until the dreams began.

When Anon was four summers, he began having dreams about a woman. His vocabulary wasn't enough to adequately describe his dreams thoroughly. But from what little Noamora could understand, the woman claimed to be his real mother.

When Noamora heard those words, she froze, her blood turned cold.

_No...It can't be... _

It hadn't scared Anon, but it had confused the young child greatly.

And of course, he had many questions.

She shushed him and put him in her bed, where he promptly fell asleep. She, however, tossed and turned the whole night to Anons major dislike. "Mama. Stop."

That cheered her up a bit. Putting in the incident aside, she too fell asleep.

But, the dreams did not _stop._ It went from once a week, to three times, to every night.

And every night, the routine was repeated.

Anon, in his innocence, did not think anything of it. It was a game to him. A game that let him sleep in his mama's bed every night. He had thought once or twice of pretending the dream had came to him when it hadn't, but he had seen how much it distressed his mother. So, he just settled for whenever it came.

Noamora, on the other hand, was in a complete disarray. She had raised Anon as her own son(no... He_ is_ my son), and she could not bear the thought of someone, _anyone_, taking Anon away from her.

_Even a mother who could abandon her child in the middle of a village, she thought bitterly. _

And, how could the mother make herself appear in her son's dreams unless she was a magician, or...

Noamora gasped, her hand quickly coming up to cover her mouth._ Or, unless Anon is dreaming of her because he doesn't see me as his real mother? _

Noamora harshly blinked back stinging tears that threatened to cascade down her cheeks. She had planned to tell Anon that she wasn't his real mother. But not now...not now. When he was older, much older.

Anon slept peacefully beside her.

The dreams had stopped not too long after that, and life gradually returned to normal.

Anon, caught up in the happy net of his youth, was having too much fun to remember such horrible moments. And Noamora, letting herself get trapped up in his enthusiasm, succeeded in pushing the incident to the back of her mind.

But she never truly forgot...


	3. Chapter 2

His true power began to manifest when he was five.

At five, she had already enrolled him in school. And though he was an entire four seasons younger than the rest of the kids, he was the top of the class.

But...the way the kids responded to him was _strange, _to say the least.

The first day of school ended, Noamora had glanced out the way, her eyes searching for the familiar figure of Anon to come racing up the path to their cottage. But, when, finally, she did spot him, he was not alone.

He was calmly walking up the path, surrounding by a small group of boys and girls all eager for his attention. Two girls, who looked to be about 8 summers, had their arm looped in his, while Anon kept turning his head back to respond to something that the boys trailing him had said.

All in all, he looked distressed.

Noamora stepped outside, and Anon immediately called out, with obvious glee, "Mother!"

And with tremendous force, he broke the chain of the two girls arms and ran up and gave his mother a huge and kiss. Bending into his hug, Noamora whispered: "Anon, it seems that you've made many friends."

"Friends or followers? They keep following me. I have no peace." He whispered back.

She smiled and stood straight, donning a strong voice, she said, "Anon, must start on his homework! You all may play with him then, after he is done. Understood?"

With moans and sighs, they turned. The two older girls stepped forward and held out something to Anon. His books.

He smiled and stepped forward to receive them. "Thank you."

Instantly, both girls descended on him, kissing each cheek, blushing, and running off, giggling madly.

Anon sat stunned on the floor, where he had fallen to escape his two attackers. _Pretty attackers, _he had to admit, with a smirk.

Noamora coughed, and he jumped forgetting she was there. "Mother, did you see...?" he asked, turning to her.

She had an amused twinkle in her eye that Anon didn't just quite yet know how he felt about. Shrugging, he picked up his books and followed his mother inside.

But that was not the last of the incidents.

The crowds grew even larger. The boys and girls were even older. Once, the teacher had even been in the crowd. Her excuse was, "I just wanted to see what the commotion was about." But Noamora's keen eyes had not failed to notice the lingering gazes that the teacher placed on Anon as she went on and on about how Anon was just a _so _wonderful student.

She had kept Anon out of school the next day.

But, apparently, the crowds did not like that. The same day they came to her cottage, led by the teacher, and looking altogether like a mob, minus the torches and pitchforks. But there were fires and daggers in their eyes, as they chorused, "Where is Anon?"

Noamora had stepped out, calmly twirling her axe. "Yes?" she asked, sweetly.

The kids seeing this young woman, barely older than their oldest kid, twirling a huge axe like it was a baton, they gulped and quieted down quick. The teacher stepped forward, rather nervously.

"Hello."

Noamora did not respond.

"Uhm...well, we noticed that Anon did not show up in school today."

"Yes, I know. I kept him from school. I'm thinking of transferring him to another school."

The teachers eyes flashed with rage, and her nostrils quivered, but she caught herself and reigned it in. "Why?" she asked, voice cracking.

Noamora did not respond.

Then, the teacher did something that surprised Noamora. "Anon?" she called out. "Anon?" She sounded so lost, so desperate. Noamora stared at her in shock. The kids too, had a lost, desperate look in their eyes as they searched the house with their eyes, waiting for Anon to appear._ What is going on here?_

"Stay inside, Anon!" Noamora called out.

"Anon?" the teacher called out again, more urgent, more frantic. "Anon, it's your teacher. Come talk to me."

Seconds passed and Anon did not show. Noamora had stopped twirling the axe. She was too stunned by this spectacle to move.

"Don't you want to talk to me?" she cried out, tears threatening to spill down her face.

Noamora's mouth was open in shock. The kids looked like they were about to cry as well. _All for Anon?_ she asked herself.

Slowly, she backed up into the house. Anon was standing there, wide-eyed. "Mother, they are truly mad," he whispered.

Noamora calmly nodded, though she felt a clenching in her insides. She was scared. He had not seen their faces, and their intensity. They were like those of one possessed...Or obsessed.

They had to move now. And quickly.

She could already hear the teacher creaking up the steps on their outside porch, still calling out, "Anon? Anon, Sweetie, it's me, your teacher, open the door."

Noamora glanced to see Anon's expression. He just stood there, expressionless, no doubt thinking. Finally, he turned to her. "I know we are leaving, Mother. But...If we are to fight our way out, I need to know how many there are."

The way he said it, filled with such confidence and self-assuredness, immediately evaporated any fear that was inside her. She could fight very well, and hadn't she taught Anon everything she had known?

"I did not count." Noamora replied. "But, there are many. And we will not fight, if we can avoid it. We will go through the back."

He nodded, dissapeared, and returned with a small sack. "Money," he said, to Noamora's questioning eyes. "We will need to buy things when we are in hiding, right Mother?"

She nodded.

"And I checked the back," he continued. "There are not many, but a few back there. And we will have to fight, it seems."

He did not sound eager, or scared. He stated it simply like it was just something that would have to be done.

As they headed for the back, Anon turned one last final time to Noamora. "I am Sorry for

His sentence was broken with a hug. "Let us save words for a later time, Anon."

She had purposely said later time to give hope to Anon, whose words sounded like they would die here, and to herself. He understood. Then, checking to make sure he still had the money, he unlocked the door, and they stepped outside to face whatever was in their way.

**Authors Note: I am thinking of making this the last chapter. But, I've apparently made the grave mistake of writing on a dead topic. So many people read this as I see in the traffic graph, yet no one reviews. And to my one follower, this chapter was written solely for you my friend, as you seem to be the only one to take interest. I have no wish to pollute this site with a story no one cares for, or for my work to be praised after I'm a corpse riddled with maggots like an artist whose work is hailed as a masterpiece, many years after he has passed. **

**So, my readers, leave a review if you enjoy. All I wish to do, is all that you want to be done.**


	4. Chapter 3

At the back, there were four kids only. They stood firm with determined faces, making silent promises with themselves that they would not fail in capturing Anon.

_And he will forever be ours._

Unconsciously, without knowing, they all huddled a bit closer.

A brave one, a tubby boy of 12 perhaps, stepped forward. For what reason, no one knew. But, alas, he was the first to be taken out.

Quick as a blur, Noamora smacked the boys head into the handle of her axe. Before he had even hit the ground, she was upon the others, too stunned to move. On her heels was Anon.

They all turned to Anon, and in that moment of distraction, she made quick work of them. Without losing a step, she and Anon stepped into the forests that surrounding the back of their house.

By the time the others had reached the back, they were long gone.

Everywhere they went, the scenes were repeated. The crowds, the escapes...Even when she did not enroll him in school, nosy neighbors would inquire about the 'handsome boy' they had seen, once or twice. And they would have that look in their eye. And again, Noamora and Anon were forced to relocate.

Time and time again. The situation was not eased by the fact, that the more Anon grew, the more handsome he became. At 14, he was already 6 feet and 4 inches, and looked like the son of god...And since Noamora had no clue where he had truly came from, he very well could be.

And one night, as they sat in the room they had rented at some inn far out in the woods, there was a knock on the door. Noamora could not help the tightening that tensed her muscles so painfully, the stress that racked her mind at the thought they would have to move again.

She stole a glance at Anon. He had not stopped whittling the wooden spear in his hand, and gave no indication that he had even heard the knock. She almost began to believe that she had imagined it, when there it was again.

It was louder this time, and there was no doubt Anon had heard it, but he still didn't make any move to the door.

Puzzled by his strange behavior, Noamora stood and went to the door, resting her hand on it. After a moment, to regain her strength, she unlocked the door.

It had been raining, and the beautiful woman that stood outside was completely soaked. And beautiful she was. Her golden hair streamed past her shoulders, slicked straight from the rain; her eyes were as blue as the ocean, and just as deep; her beautiful mouth was curved in a gentle smile; and the simple dress she wore, now wet with rain, clung to this woman's every curve. And she had many...

All in all, she made Noamora feel very inferior as a woman at the moment.

"May I come in?" the woman spoke, her voice as beautiful as her looks.

Noamora stared at her suspiciously. "For what business?" she asked, haughtily, very prepared to slam the door on this gorgeous woman.

"I want to see my son." The woman said gently.

Noamora almost snorted._ Be reasonable,_ she told herself.

"And what makes you think he is here?" she pressed the woman, slowly closing the door.

"Ask your son. He will confirm it."

Noamora was prepared to slam the door then and there, but there was something about this woman. She had an aura round her. And she did not have that look in her eyes that Noamora had only come to know too well.

Before she could stop herself, she was saying, "Anon! Come here a minute."

The woman chuckled. Noamora peered at her, and before she could ask the woman what was so funny, Anon stepped behind her.

And then he gasped.

The spear he made, and had brought in anticipation of trouble, clattered to the floor.

"What is wrong Anon? Speak!" Noamora urged, clutching his shirt.

The woman and Anon were locked in deep eye contact. And, finally without breaking eye contact, he addressed Noamora:

"Mother, this is the woman I had seen in my dreams..."


	5. Chapter 4

"_Mother, this is the woman I had seen in my dreams..."_

Anon had hurried to usher the woman in, and was eager to make her more comfortable. Noamora had watched the woman's face very carefully. But the woman had only looked upon Anon with those unreadable deep eyes of hers.

After Anon had seen to it that she had a cup of streaming hot cocoa, and a warm blanket, he pulled a chair across from her, where he now sat, gazing at her.

Noamora sat close by, a tinge of _something _creeping up on her as she watched her son act like a servant for this woman.

The woman placed her cup down. Anon frowned and pointed at it.

"You haven't drank," he stated.

She laughed lightly. "I do not have need for drink, my son. I am.." she paused. "My, look how you've grown!"

It was hollow enthusiasm. Anon's frown became even deeper. "You are what?" he questioned. "And why did you call me your son?"

"Because you are," she immediately replied.

"Enough!"

Both Anon and the woman turned to look to Noamora curiously.

"I said enough," she repeated. "I want you out of my house. Now."

"Mother, wait." Anon said. "Hear her out. Listen, please, to what she has to say."

The woman stared Anon in the face. "Do you remember the dreams you had when you were four?"

He nodded.

"And do you remember seeing me in them? Do you remember what I was saying?"

He nodded. "You were saying that you were my true mother, and I your true child."

"Did you believe me?"

At this, he glanced guiltily at Noamora before replying, "Yes."

"And why did you believe me?" she pressed.

"I...I don't know."

"You do."

"I just felt it." He offered up, lamely.

She indulged him with a smile. "You do not yet know where you come from, my son. But worry not, it is time I show you."

Noamora dashed to block the door. "You will kill me first then," she huffed.

The woman smiled. "There are some things that we must first clear up, of course. For one, you have done a marvelous child of rearing my son..."

"YOUR SON?!" Noamora screeched.

"Yes. You have raised him, but I carried him for nine months in my womb. I am the mother who left him in the village all those seasons ago, but I have never abandoned him." Noamora snorted. "Believe what you wish," the woman continued, "But I have been protecting him. He is destined for great things. But he will not be a hero. He will be scorned, hated, rebuked, and if possible, murdered. He will be to all eyes the villain, except to the one he saves. But, before that happens, he must learn to control his gift."

"Gift?" Noamora asked, exasperated.

"Yes, the tool he will use. You are already familiar with it. You have seen its effects on people. And you may already have deemed it a curse."

"The only curse we've been experiencing is all the people that suddenly lose their minds and want to claim him as theirs. Like some people we know..." Noamora peered pointedly at the woman.

"That is his gift," the woman went on, ignoring the low jab. " He has the ability to obsess people in him."

"And that is a gift?"  
"If he learned how to control it, yes."

"And who are you again?"

"My name is Euphoria," the woman replied. "I am a nymph from the Paradisian Islands. Every inhabitant there has some ability. And, though he does not live there, he has my blood coursing through his veins."

"So, you have the power to obsess people too?"

"No. I can just give someone tremendous pleasure like they have never felt. But I choose who I do that too."

"So, Anon..."

The woman held up her hand. "And you claim he is your child, your son? I have been here for awhile, listening intently to everything you have said, and not once have you called him son. Not once. You do not even truly believe you are his mother."

Noamora opened her mouth to speak, opened it wider to shout, but nothing came out.

"If Anon wants to control his gifts, I must take him with me back to the Paradisian Islands to reconnect with his roots. You may stay here and wait because I will be bringing him back. As much as I would love to keep him, I have sacrificed him to fate in order to protect him. And fate has placed him in your hands."

There was little said after that. After a brief, but intense discussion with Anon, she decided to let him go. And with a emotional goodbye, Anon took off with his biological mother for his homeland. But he vowed to return to the young woman who raised him from infancy, who now stood staring after them long after he had disappeared from sight.

Noamora. His Mother.

**A/N: I was so enthused by the one review, and the one extra follower, that I decided to write two chapters. For those who are viewing, do not hesitate to review and be responsible for replenishing this author's artistic well. And I will continue to repay you by aspiring to write things that will resonate with the dreams and unspoken things hidden inside you. **


	6. Chapter 5

They had been walking for - judging by how his legs felt - a couple of hours. But, judging by the scenery, it looked like it had only been 10 minutes at most.

His stomach had went from growling to outright barking. Whenever he put his hand to it, he could almost swear that it would try to bite him. Yup, he was about ready to call it quits.

His mother, on the other hand, looked like she was having a ball. And not "enjoying-a-casual-walk-in-fresh-air-after-a-stressful- day" type of ball, but a "I've-been-locked-in-the-house-for-12-years-and-had-finally-escaped" type of ball.

_This place must be something special,_ Anon wondered.

They walked for another 5 or 10 of those minutes that felt like hours, when Anon decided to call it in. Well, if you call his legs buckling themselves underneath him, and rooting him to that one spot, calling it in. In either case, he was done.

His mother was instantly by his side. "What is wrong?" she asked.

"My legs are tired, my stomach is in hunger, and I suspect that you are lost. Am I correct?" He retorted rather sassily, sitting up.

At this, his mother chuckled. "My dear child, we reached the Island hours ago. You are just unconscious."

"I am not. I am talking to you, aren't I?"

She smiled. "You are unconscious of the reality of the Island that you've been detached from for so long. You are only conscious of this reality of this place with that woman, and that is what is preventing you from gaining consciousness."

He shook his head, bewildered. "So, we are already here at the Island? But I cannot see it, because I am unconscious of it? So I have to become conscious by...becoming unconscious?" He groaned. "I am confused!"

"Just open your eyes," she said.

He tried to protest. "But my eyes are-"

"No. _Really_ open your eyes and look."

He frowned and began looking around. "I don't see anything," he muttered.

"You are either looking too hard, or not looking hard enough. You must look just_ right."_

This time he looked around, but without trying to see anything. But also without trying to see nothing. And in the corner of his eye, something flashed past. An animal. But not an animal you would ordinarily see in a forest. It looked like a fish.

He swung his head to face it, and then something else flashed by in the corner of his other eye. It _was _a fish! But where were they coming from? And then he heard...the sound of splashing.

His hand suddenly began to sink into the ground, but when he looked down - instead of seeing his hand sinking into the forest floor- he saw that his hand was surrounding by a pool of clear water. And no longer was he sitting on the forest floor, he was on a beach. And the pool was really the edge of a vast ocean.

Ocean?

The trees that had once been there, had disappeared. Now it was nothing but an expanse of seas with fish flipping out into the air and back down into the water.

The change had been so sudden and natural that he did not even feel like he had been witness to part of the transformation. In fact, it felt like he had been asleep, and had woken up into this world that now seemed like a dream.

He turned toward his mother. She sat beside him, smiling. Her gaze was patient and affectionate.

Her voice cracked as she spoke:

"Welcome home, _Enamore._"


	7. Chapter 6

He looked at her, confused.

"Enamore?" he asked her.

She nodded, continuing to smile. "That is your name. Your _true _name."

_My true name_, he said to himself.

He turned to the ocean, the waves better enabling him to contemplate his thoughts.

He wanted to look at his mother. He felt his mother's eyes on him, but he couldn't.

Instead he asked one of the questions utmost on his mind:

"Why did you abandon me?"

He turned, in the silence that followed, to see the look on his mother's face as she came up with some fabulous tale to excuse why she would abandon her infant son, leaving him prey to any external forces that may have wished him harm.

But, she did not. She did not speak, weep, or turn her eyes, meeting his with equal force.

"You listen to me, and you listen to me _well," _she began, sharply, her tone scolding like that of a...well...of a mom. "I did not _abandon _you. I was _protecting_ you. Enamore, you are my _son_, and I love you. I have never left your side, and no harm would have befallen you because the Fates have said so. And even if they had not, I'd be _damned_, do you hear me, if I would let my only son be hurt."

He looked away in shame.

"_Look at me," _she commanded. Tears were streaming down her face, but her voice never wavered. "Did you think that there was a single day that passed that I did not regret having to leave you to the care of some village people? Did you think that there was a single day that passed that I did not stand by in anguish as you breastfed from that woman, while my breasts were swollen with milk for you? Did you think that there was a single day that passed that I did not feel jealousy as you came home, growing, happy, calling that woman _Mother_?"

And then she broke down, heaving with sobs, as her tears spilled down into the rippling ocean.

He understood then, and even if he did not, he was too moved by her words and her passion to let her go on like this. He crossed over to her, held her tight, and whispered: " I forgive you-"

But, what he said next made her smile:

"- Mother."

He held her like that as she gradually composed herself. Finally, they both stood.

She looked up at him, and smiled. "Would you now like to meet your family? They are all eager to see you."

He smiled back and nodded. "But, how shall we get there?" he asked, looking around, and noticing for the first time that they were on an island completely surrounded by water. No palm trees, and the small island he knew could not hold a family of anybody.

"I think I will let you choose. Do you want to travel by sea, by land, or by air?" she quizzed him, mischievously.

"By air," he asked, curious to see what she would do.

She nodded, went to the ocean, dipped her fingers in, and sprinkled him and herself with some water.

Instantly, he felt his mind go blank, and his body was filled with a sense of something and nothingness. He felt light, carefree, giddy, and he silly-ly began to flap his arms, pretending he was bird, really believing that would make him fly.

But not so silly was, he actually began to fly.


	8. Chapter 7

Hera reclined in her chair, fanned by her two maid-servants, but she was anything but restful.

Not too long ago, she had walked in on Zeus and one of her female servants entangled in a 'compromising' situation. Just the thought made her boil with rage and thoughts of revenge. That particular servant had been one of Hera's closest companions- one whom she had shared her real feelings with in regards to Zeus' infidelities. But she had never thought the silly girl would double cross her like this. But, then again, she would not have been prepared to combat the charm and power of the King of Gods, Hera tried to reason.

But as much as she tried to reason, Hera could not erase the image of her husband and another woman -not even half as powerful or as beautiful as herself- joined together in a way only married couples, or lovers commited to each other, should be. As she thought about this, her fingers sunk deep into the cushions, and she glanced with narrowed, distrustful eyes at her current maid servants. That other untrustworthy servant girl was disposed of, and would never be spoken of again.

"Your drink, m'lady." A servant girl stepped forward, young, panting with the desire to please. As she bent forward and extended her drink out to Hera, Hera caught sight of the ample cleavage, and Hera immediately flared up with anger.

She smacked the drink out of her hand, the girl cried out, "Ah!", and the juice was spilled everywhere.

"Clean it up," Hera snarled. "And I am thirsty still, so fetch me another drink. In a bigger cup this time."

The girl, still shaking from the event, nodded, and began cleaning. The girl was on all fours, and as Hera watched the gentle sway of the girls butt under the thin clothing, she imagined Zeus walking in and admiring this view, so she immediately screeched: "Get up! Get up! Just fetch me my drink!"

The girl, startled, started and ran for the door. Hera stared at her in contempt the whole time. Noticing the silence in the room, she looked at her two maid servants who had stopped fanning.

"Well," Hera motioned irritably. "Keep fanning."

The maid-servants immediately began frantically fanning.


	9. Chapter 8

He awoke, head throbbing, in a tent that smelled of a distinctly familiar, but not so pleasant odour. He groaned, as he forced himself to an upright position to investigate his surroundings. In the corner was a bucket, presumably filled with piss, which would explain the smell. He maneuvered out the tent, careful not to upset the bucket.

The sun hit him and felt nice on his back. He continued forward, eyes closed, letting the sun work its magic on the length of his body, until he came in contact with something. He opened his eyes, and his head being inclined downward, the first thing he saw was a steel-tipped boot. His eyes traveled from the boot up the massive leg, to an even more massive torso, and finally a head.

The head was huge and hairy, but it would have been more intimidating if the man hadn't been smiling so widely. There was a certain charm in his eyes that made you feel like laughing. The man stooped over and pulled Enamore up to his feet and then further up into a bone-crunching hug.

His eyes widened in shock, pain, and surprise as his mother emerged from behind the man He turned to her, with pleading eyes, not knowing the degree to which she could rescue him. Surprising, as soon as his mom said, "Let him go," he felt himself being dropped. He looked up, and then with even greater surprise, his mom leaned over and kissed the man.

"Enamore- meet your father."

The man was so charming, funny and good that Enamore quickly accepted him as his father for those reasons, if not for the subconscious fear that he did not want to see this man angry. Ever. Just thinking of the damage he could cause someone made Enamore cringe.

The father and mother immediately hauled Enamore around the island to meet everyone and make introductions with festive greetings from all. Finally, after a long day, they ended up in the mountains at the mouth of a cave. Inside, there was complete darkness, but that is where Enamore was being dragged to by his parents.

Inside, they waited- Enamore didn't know for what, though. But suddenly, the cave was illuminated with light from a small campire that had ignited from nowhere. Around it, sat three witches. One faced back, the other forward, and one directly at them. They were blind, with no eye sockets, but There was no doubt that they could still see. They were the Fates.

The one facing them spoke. "Enamore, welcome back."

The one facing forward spoke. "It is a pity you must be leaving so soon. Your fate awaits."

The one facing backward spoke. "Yes, a pity. Your past seemed so happy, even though there were times you had to run away from your troubles."

"Even now you want to run." The first Fate spoke.

"But the future has come. You can run no more." The second Fate spoke.

"The past is over." The third Fate spoke.

The first Fate spoke again. "He is impatient, sisters. He wants to know his mission."

The second Fate spoke again. "Very well, warrior. The battle you must fight is one of love. You will have very powerful opponents, and even more beautiful but difficult prize. You see...you must capture Hera's heart."

Enamore waited for the third Fate to speak again. But she remained silent. She represented the past, and her silence signified that his past was over.

"When do I begin?" Enamore asked.

"You must leave tonight. No goodbyes, no farewells, just leave." The first Fate spoke.

"And what of my parents? Cannot I, at least, say bye to them?"

"No." The second Fate spoke. "If you succeed, you will see them again."

"But, can't you tell me if I succeed or not?"

Silence. They were done speaking.

"Well?" he screamed, frustrated, as the campfire begin to die out drowning the cave out in darkness.

He stood there, and would have continued to stand there, if his father hadn't said, "Just go, son. You will do fine."

He nodded, even though he knew they could not see him. And he resisted the urge to say Goodbye, remembering what the Fates had said. And as he left the cave, he could imagine his mother crying and his father leaning to comfort her.

Outside, halfway down the path from the cave, he then began to wonder how he was to even begin. Was he to walk? Fly? Swim? But his answers were revealed in the format of the pure white horse that neither and looked up at him with clear eyes. Folded on its back, were two magnificent wings made for the angels

"Pegasus" he breathed out. Everyone knew the famed horse.

Cautiously, he approached it, and Pegaus snorted as if to say hurry-up. Or at least Enamore thought he did. And he flung himself on Pegasus back.

"Mount Olympus," he breathed in Pegasus' ear.

And they were off


	10. Chapter 9

She felt old.

Every mistress of her husband seemed so young, full of lustful youth or youthful innocence.

She felt ugly.

The flowing locks, flawless skin, perky breasts, jutting butt, wide hips...

She felt helpless.

Time and time and time again, she would wreak havoc on the life of the current mistress, only to have another one - even younger and prettier than the last- take her place.

To many onlookers, she was a monster, making war with women (an army of women, if you will) who did not have a snowballs chance in Hades of protecting themselves. Because she, Hera, as Queen of the Gods had power, everyone assumed. She was powerful.

But she did not feel like it.

She did not enjoy destroying these women's lives. Deep inside of herself, she knew they had little to no chance of resisting her husband.

He was a god. He was persistent, powerful, and very persuading. And what he did not get, he took.

And Hera tried to reason that with herself. But, when some nights, as she lay spread out for hours, waiting and willing for Zeus to come and carry her to a bliss that was beyond Mount Olympus, and it would slowly dawn on her that he was out in bliss with some other women, she felt a rage beyond her controlling. Her anger, humiliation and shame, would force her, almost unconsciously, to pour out her feelings of hatred down upon the lady of favour at the moment.

And afterwards, she would feel a regret her pride would not let her admit.

She grew resigned.

She would welcome him home through expressions weary of tired hugs and weak smiles. She would smell the perfume of other women on his tunic as he walked by her to shower, and she would not ask. He would lay next to her and coil his arm around her, stroke her hair, whisper in her ear, kiss her neck...and she would only be able to think, indifferently, that he had probably went through these same motions with another woman just a few hours before. But she would not speak.

She determined to suffer in silence when it came to him. Then she would make others suffer.

She had admirers a' plenty. But she recoiled to any advances. She did not desire anyone but Zeus, and she would not stoop to a lower level in order to make Zeus jealous. As tempting though it was...But she was the Goddess of Marriage! How could she possibly do such a thing?

But she felt more than she thought, always had. Her emotions, if strong enough, would overcome any logical thinking. And that's exactly what happened when she met Enamore


	11. Chapter 10

Hera lounged langourously over her ostentatiously diamond-speckled throne; her legs spread out lewdly in a private moment of rebellion against the constant habit of having always to hold herself perfectly proper in the presence of company- which, as a punishment for being the Queen of Gods, she was never long without. So now, in this temporary moment of solitude, she took solace in showing herself off in as a seductive manner as possible to her invisible audience. She strutted the length of the hall, sashayed, swiveled, and sensually strolled back to her throne, only to start something anew. She did these things for no other reason than that it made her feel beautiful in a world where she felt confined by the commitments of a marriage to a man who mocked monogamy. And alone, in her throne room, she was free to act out her fantasies. And so she did, knowing deep down she was moving on borrowed time, but reluctant to admit it. So when she heard the knock on the door signaling someone with a matter in urgent need of her immediate attention, she did not even bother to sigh, pout, frown, or display any outward expression of her inner disappointment. Silently, she trudged back to her throne, arranged herself in a proper manner, and called out: "Come in!"

The guard stormed in, dragging behind him the bloodied and bruised body of a man. "And intruder," the guard explained. "Caught him wandering about on the grounds. He was riding on Pegasus, and apparently the horse has taken a liking to him. Took about seven guards to calm him down after we nabbed the fella here." He roughly jabbed a thumb in the man's direction. The mans only response was a groan. "Yeah, the guards are still out there trying to calm Pegasus down."

Hera narrowed her eyes. "And why is he bloody and beat-up? Did he arrive this way, or was this at your doing?"

The guard shuffled a bit, and glanced uneasily down at the man. "Well, uhm, uh, it was...well you see...He- then I...uhm...H-he cast a spell on me!" he suddenly blurted out.

Hera quirked an eyebrow. "He did?" she asked in mock disbelief.

The guard nodded his head vigorously. "Yup. See, I was just going to grab him and bring him here and...and..I don't know! I was just looking at him one moment, and the next thing I know...I-I'm trying to kiss him! Unbelievable, right? Me- straight as an arrow- trying to kiss another guy." The guard laughed nervously and rubbed the back of his neck, shaking his head in embarrassment.

"And so...you beat him up?" Hera asked, nonchalantly, but still a little intrigued.

"No!" The guard shouted, anger returning. "He hit me first! When I was leaning in, right, to, you know, he hit me! And then I beat the snot outta him!"

Hera smirked. "I don't know which you're more angered about- that he hit you, or that he wouldn't let you kiss him?"

The guard stopped and when processed what she said, he began sputtering and stammering about how he wasn't "interested in kissing a male period", especially a "male trespasser" who just happened to be "really good looking for a guy, that's it.

Hera nodded, amused. "Job well done. You may leave with the assurance that he will be dealt with accordingly."

The guard paused. "What are you going to do to him?" he asked. Hera clearly heard a slight tone of a protective concern, and smirked.

"Why, I'm surprised! Are you actually worried?!" she exclaimed.

"No, er, well...I mean, thinking about it, he..he..maybe he had something important to tell us, y'know? Or something..." he trailed off. In the silence, Hera could clearly hear the words that were being left unsaid: _Please don't kill him._

"What do you propose I do with him?" Hera asked.

"You could leave him in my care! I mean, I could watch over him. Er, in a jail cell of course.."

Hera was becoming a little more intrigued. The guard was clearly trying to hide his obvious infatuation with the prisoner. And she had known the guard to be a well-known lover of the women mortals and nymphs and the like. But that did not mean anything in the world they lived in where men and women slept with anything that moved (and some things that did not). No, what intrigued her was how fast the prisoner had worked his influence over the guard, and how potent it was after only been in effect a few minutes or so. Had it really been a magical spell? Hera wondered.

"Leave him here. When he awakes, I will see if he has anything of value to share. And I will proceed from there."

The guard wanted to say something, protest maybe, disobey. But instead he heavily swallowed it down, and after a glance touched with tender concern for the prisoner, he left the hall.

Hera watched the prisoner as he lay unconscious. _Who are you? _she wondered.


	12. Chapter 11

Enamore came too. Groaned, "Oooh..." And put a hand to his head as the world spun like a dancing nymph. He screwed his eyes shut, fighting the urge to vomit. He felt sore. And a coldness made only his face numb. He realized then that he was lying on a floor. Tiled. Spotless, but still...When he opened his eyes and saw the carpet - the warm, fluffly, _inviting_ carpet- that lay only a few _inches _away, he cursed his captors.

But _no..._It wasn't captors, or captors...It was a guard. A stout, swaggering, smelly flesh of a thing that tried to throw its weight around (of which there were many pounds to throw) and then had tried to come on to him!

Enamore hadn't mean to hit the man. Okay...maybe he did. But, in this case, wasn't he justified?

He shook his head, shuddering as the image of the guard's cracked, puckered lips lingered on his mind a second more, that was a second more than he wanted.

"You're awake."

A _woman's_ voice. He wasn't alone. The woman to whom the voice belonged too, sounded bored; and growing up, he was taught early that, there was no such thing scarier than a bored god - which, by being on Mt. Olympus, almost certainly assured that this woman _was._ Or a goddess, at least.

He stood on unsteady feet, and bowed, without ever looking at her face.

"You fool! How do you know I am a goddess that you should bow before me?"

"It is your voice," he blurted out, truthfully.

"You are saying my voice is _strong?_"

The voice was calm and even - the sound of a voice that had endured much pain and suffering with calm and soothing words that had hid its true intentions. Enamore instinctively knew. The voice was trying to trap him. He had to proceed carefully.

"No..." He started.

"Weak, then?"

_Choose your words carefully._

"It is _powerful _in a way that only a higher being's voice can be. And womanly, in a way that says for a fact that you are undeniably a goddess. But I go even further. Your voice is so powerful that I do not hesitate in saying this..."

He paused. Silence held it's breath, waiting for what would come next.

"And before I finish, let me say I am _honored _and _humbled..._

The silence lingered about like a conspirator waiting for the coast to be cleared so it can strike and make a quick get away.

"To be in your presence..."

The silence pressed in, so palpable he could feel it trying to strangle his courage and shove his words back down his throat.

"Queen Hera!" he choked out.

The silence pounced then, struck, and fled.


	13. Chapter 12

Hera eyed him with contemptuous fascination, like a girl who cannot stop staring at a bug despite how much it disgusts her. This man- this mere _mortal-_ did not stir her in the slightest way. But. He spoke _well. _So he would live. For now.

"Stand up," she ordered. He did this.

"Look up," she ordered. He did this -literally- his eyes fixed on a spot well above her head.

"Do you _mock _me?" She hissed. " Look at _me."_ She ordered. He hesitated...then as was the routine; he did this.

He gasped.

And time froze.

And a mortal body too weak to carry the immense love that suddenly bloomed within, fell in a heap to the floor.

Hera had only a slightly parted mouth to show for the shock that had suddenly ran through her, stronger than a bolt of Zeus.

_What was that?_ she thought.

Something had passed between her and this mortal. Something deep, intense, and promising. She had never felt this way before -excepting once- when she had first developed her plan of revenge for the first mistress Zeus had had after their honeymoon.

But that time, the shock had been negative. This time it felt..._good. _

Her brows furrowed in thought. _What does this all mean? Who is this man again to make me feel this way? I'll have to look into this further. _

She looked at the man below her, with his body still bowed to the ground in reverence. _Pathetic. _Zeus would have never knelt before her like this. But, somehow, this thrilled her. But only a bit. And a bit was a bit too much. She would have to get this man away from her before she lost control.

_"_Guards!" she called out. Immediately, two guards entered- neither one the one that had tried to make a pass at the mortal. "Dungeon. Alive." She instructed.

Two nods, and two pairs of arms clenched in effort as they dragged the man away to the dungeon. Before the man could be dragged completely out the hall, he glanced up once more. Gray eyes met golden light ones, and the thrill ran through them both.


	14. Chapter 13

Silence descended with the passing moments, as her thoughts - like hummingbirds- flitted through her mind. The shock had gone and left her with a numbness that she shivered and soaked in. She could not stop the replay of images that flashed through her mind, showcasing only one thing: _that mortal. _

She stood, made to move to the window. But sat. Then stood again. Then sat.

She frowned in frustration. Puzzled, as well, to her mind and body's unusual unknowing of what it was supposed to do. Did she want to sit? Or did she want to stand? Her body ping-ponging between the two options did not settle well with her. She was a _queen_! Queens made _decisions. _

_So decide, _she communicated to herself.

In the end, she decided to sit. If she stood, she would eventually have to sit again. It was all symbolic in a way. In all her years with Zeus...hadn't she not been forced to sit down and take whatever abuse he unwillingly, or willingly, caused her? Well, not _forced, _per say, but what were her choices against the King of Gods? Stand up against him and voice her mind or sit down and let him carry on with his dalliances. She would stand up, many a time, to cause all manners of chaos to the women, but she would have to sit again while Zeus moved on to the next one.

_This is my fate, _she sighed, stretching out her back.

And like a flash, as soon as she had mentally pronounced 'fate', the image of the mortal appeared. And was gone, just as quick.

_Hmm?_

Again, she said fate, but no image was produced this time.

_I'm just lonely, as always_, she sighed. Zeus had been gone off to Jove knows where for the past 3 months, leaving her here like...like a forgotton toy, a used _plaything _that he could return to whenever his new toys did not please him anymore. She felt like a trophy- looked at with pride, but only praised when others were around. Just a thing to show off. It felt like he was saying:

"Look at my pretty wife! My loyal wife! My loyal, _stupid, _wife who I cheat on and who will never leave me."

And she would smile, and play the role of the loyal, subservient but still powerful hostess. And she could even see in their eyes that they _pitied_ her, as Zeus openly ogled other women, or even groped some under the intoxicating spell of ambrosia. Hera was not ugly by any means, and she would quickly become aware of the looks that some of the other males gave her. But let Zeus catch them looking, and it was a thunderbolt through the heart!

Some of the men had interested her, slightly, but she had hidden her curiosity in order to spare their lives. The persistent ones died and the others, feeling rejected by her 'indifference' labelled her 'haughty' and made up all sorts of vicious rumors. They had even then sided with Zeus and claimed her 'snobbishness' was the reason why Zeus often ran around with other women. As if that was an excuse! And here she was trying to save their lives!

But, over the years, she had really grown numb to all the attention she recieved. Whenever she noticed someone's interest in her, it was nothing to her. Just a look. It would never be anything more. _Zeus _would not allow it, and neither would they for fear of Zeus finding out.

All these years, her heart had been encrusted by ice. But, now it seemed that the spark of the look from that... _mortal _had set her slightly aflame and the ice began to thaw.

She looked out a nearby window, and did not even notice when her finger began to twirl a lock of her hair around, like a shy schoolgirl in the presence of her crush.

**A/N: I am astounded by all the people that have read my story and are reading my story still. The only thing is...besides rikary, Leyna4eva, and -last but not least- Anastasia The Goddess of Drama, no one else is leaving reviews. True, I haven't asked for them in the past b/c honestly I didn't care, but now I have so many other ideas and stories I want to write, and I'm only still writing this story for reviewers like the 3 above (mainly for one who has been really supportive and enthusiastic - you know who you are ;), and because of how many people I see are reading this. Your reviews will be the air beneath my wings - provide them and I will soar; or let me drop and I will drop this story as well. **


	15. Chapter 14

Enamore was locked away in the deepest, darkest bowels of the dungeon. Gray shackles clung to him, the frost of the cold steel on his wrist seeping through his skin and into his veins. His muscles, knotted in strain from being stretched taut behind him, ached, and burned as if his blood had suddenly become acid. The air felt artic, and he had no shirt. His tattered pants did little to shield his exposed knees from rubbing raw on the broken concrete floor. He could not stand for the ceilings were too low. He had only been in his cell for a few hours, and every hour would sap a little more of his strength, energy, and will to survive. He felt as if an invisible presence was invading his cell, invading his body, his spirit, and sucking it all into itself. The only thing that kept him alive, fighting with every last drop of strength that he contained, was faith in the prophecy that foretold he would rekindle a love in Hera that had once existed, but had been extinguished a long time ago.

But the passing hours took unmerciful stabs at his faith, causing tremendous wounds that would slowly snuff out his faith like a blown out candle. He had no visitors from even the guards as they had heard of the incident with the guard who tried to kiss him, and rumors of his supposed 'magic.' And no guards meant no food, no water. It was obvious that he would perish here. And even then, they would most likely let his skeleton sit in place until his bony wrists slipped from the shackles and he tumbled forward and crumbled to dust on the shattered floor.

His throat burned dry. His stomach groaned. His vision blurred, then doubled, then began to sway as his head lazily lolled side to side. He felt Deaths grimy fingers reaching still him from his peripheral, and though he felt the icy feeling of realization that his life was actually coming to an end, he made no attempt to move. He couldn't if he had wanted too. It hurt too much. He felt the world fade away, the broken floor broke completely, and he fell into a freezing stream of unconscious that swiftly carried him away.

Upstairs, the only two guards on duty for the night, had nearly fallen asleep after indulging their stomachs sufficiently on fruits, meats, and water that had been meant for many of the prisoners that were currently imprisoned in the jail. "They don't eat the food anyway," one guard rationed.

"And it's a shame to waste good food," the other guard agreed.

This conversation had been held many years ago, and a silent, unspoken pact had been made that the guards could eat as much as the food that belonged to the prisoners as they wanted. The number one cause of deaths amongst prisoners in their jail, unsurprisingly, had been starvation. Some of the stronger, crazier inmates had turned to eating each other instead. The only inmates who actually received their food were the ones with connections to some of the major gods in one way or the other. And if they did, then they probably wouldnt be in that jail for long anyway.

After their bellies were filled, they talked a little about the new inmate, the only one locked in the dungeons at the moment.

"What do you think his story is?" one guard asked.

"Who knows? Who cares? It's a shame, though."

"What is?"

"He was a real looker. I wouldn't have minded having a 'go' at him, you know what I mean?"

The other guard turned his head away, a bit embarrassed. He knew his pal wasn't in the closest, and was an equal opportunist, but it still made him feel a bit awkward hearing him talk like that. But he also felt a bit embarrassed because he felt the same way, a little at least. He didn't know what magic the prisoner had, but it sure must've been strong to have such a strong effect after only a short time.

Both guards fell silent, one on the brink of the sleep, and the other trying to cope with his newfound feelings.

The night passed on, an action in place just waiting to happen.


	16. Chapter 15

Trumpets blew. Bells toiled.

"Hear ye! Hear ye! All residents of Mt. Olympus are to be formally dressed and presented at the palace for the homecoming of the great, the illustrious, the magnificent Zeus!"

"Huzzah!" the crowd yelled, throwing caps and babies into the air.

The speaker bowed, and prancied off, leaving the citizens to promptly rush off as well and get ready. Some masculine-armed ladies impatiently waited, as they waited for their heavily thrown babies to return back from the air.

Word spread. Wine spilled. Songs rose. The air was filled with joy, cheers, and more babies were thrown.

Hera watched bleak-eyed from the highest towers, looking every bit the evil witch that the people had portrayed her as. The lights were off, casting a gloomy, dark veil over her. She did not share in the people's joy. To them; Zeus was hero, their savior. To her; Zeus was a cheat, a filthy, womanizing swine. But he was her husband as well. So she dressed. More out of habit than out of respect, for sure.

As she prepared, and managed the affairs of the palace for the night's festival, her mind continuously strayed to the man she had met earlier. But, she shook it off for the millionth time, and tried to drown herself in her tasks.

The festival did not start until 9:00 but the palace was packed by 8:00. Zeus was expected to show by 10 or 11, when the _real _party would begin.

The festival began at 9 as planned. And it was a success. People drunk till they dropped. Inhibitions were dropped. Everything dropped, except Hera's blank expression. And for one guard who quietly slipped away.

Enamore was in agony. He was starved for food and drink. He was weak. He would not live for much longer. He had heard the guards collect the rest of the prisoners for some festival, and they had conveniently forgotten him. He would've laughed, but it hurt too much too. As he slipped back and forth between consciousness and unconsciousness, he heard footsteps closing in. Closer...and closer..until they stopped directly in front of his cell. To Enamore's great surprise, the door was flung open and a guard stepped in.

What was happening?

Enamore saw that the guard had no food, nor drink. So, was he to be beaten, then? There was no whip, but the guard could easily beat him with his armoured fists.

It was a struggle for Enamore to even keep his head up, but he wanted to look the guard in the eye as the guard beat him down.

The guard stepped forward. And he raised a hand. Enamore flinched, reflexively.

The guard paused, as if puzzled. Then started shaking. It was Enamore's turn to look puzzle. Then, as it dawned slowly on him, he realized the guard was..._laughing?_

The guard continued to raise his hand, until it reached his visor. And then he flipped the visor back.

If the guard was expecting Enamore to gasp in the shock of instant recognition, he was sorely dissapointed. Enamore did not recognize the guard, at all. Of course, all he could see at the moment were the eyes, and what eyes they were! They were bluest-gray, or the grayest-blue eyes he had ever seen.

"Who are you?" Enamore asked.

Enamore could tell the guard was frowning in thought. After a moment, he shook his head, flipped his visor down, and pulled out a bunch of keys. He jingled them mischievously.

"Oh!" Enamore exclaimed. "You are here to free me, then?"

The guard nodded, jingling the keys again. He picked a key, and placed it in the lock. He turned. Nothing.

Silence. The guard looked at Enamore. Enamore looked at the guard. The guard shrugged, and tried another key. Nothing.

_This might be a long night, _Enamore thought, as the guard tried the third and fourth keys. _But, at least I'm going to be free. _


	17. Chapter 16

By 10, Zeus had not shown still. The party raged on.

However, by 10:15, Hera's interest perked up a bit as a few guards brought in a unit of prisoners organized in single file.

_Of course, _she realized, wide-eyed. _The guards would not want to miss the party. So, of course, they would bring the prisoners because no one would be at the prison to watch them, otherwise. _

Her eyes rapidly scanned the faces, looking for a certain one in particular. When she failed to spot it, she slumped back down in her chair. Either he had died, or they had left him in the dungeon. She felt a bit saddened at the fact, but at least she could stop thinking about him now.

She felt a little lighter. It had been almost a burden, constantly having to fight against thinking about someone who you felt a bit of a...'thing' towards.

By 10:32, Hera was in much better spirits and enjoying herself at the party a little bit more.

The guard tried key after key, but none worked. Finally, he stepped back, drew his sword and cut the chains apart. Enamore, weak from the abuse he had endured, tumbled to the floor. He felt strong, armoured hands haul him up effortlessly over steel shoulders. He was carried through the dark dungeon up until they reached a room where he could smell all sorts of foods. His mouth salivated instantly, and his stomach grumbled its approval loud enough for the guard to hear.

The guard paused. He thought. Then he sat Enamore down at a table. He dissapeared into a door, came back with some food and pointed. Enamore nodded weakly. The guard went back into the room and came out with an enormous plate of food and a big jug filled with juice.

Enamore ate and drank heartily. His body unaccustomed to food and drink after so long, threw them up. But he continued to eat and drink until he was somewhat better. The whole time the guard just sat there, watching him in amazement it seemed. Probably he had never seen a man eat so much food, so fast.

"Thank you," Enamore muttered between mouthfuls. "Thank you," he said again, after he was done.

The guard picked him up again, and they continued to journey. The air was cool, the night was beautiful, and the streets were silent. Noises and lights could be seen coming from the palace where Hera and Zeus lived and reigned. The guard hefted Enamore behind him on a horse, and to Enamore's surprise, they began racing toward the palace.

11:10. No Zeus, but a much happier Hera. The party did not show any sign of dying down. No one had completely passed out yet, and the drinks flowed bountifully. Everyone was relaxed, care-freely enjoying each other's company. The atmosphere was so warm and comforting.

When they reached the palace, the guard got off and heaved Enamore off. He pulled a sword and placed the tip into Enamore's back, nodding toward the do. _Go that way. _Enamore obeyed the silent command.

The waitresses were coming around again with more drinks, when the door burst open, the cold flying in to enjoy the party. "Close the damn door!" someone hollered. There were roars of agreement from all around.

A chained man walked in, followed by a guard who prodded him in forward motion with a pointy-looking sword. The guard kicked the door close behind him, to everyone's satisfaction. Hera sat stiff, alert, and stunned as she instantly recognized the man. It was _him. _He had grown a bit of facial hair and had lost a bit of weight, but everything else was the same.

Her breath hitched, her throat drying, heart beating. He had not looked at her yet, so she did not know if the spark would still be there. But, deep down, yes she did. She knew. It would be. She was afraid to admit it.

And with fear, came anger. She had been happy, damnit! After she had reconciled the fact that he had died, she had felt peace, freedom! And now he was back to take it away from her!

She wanted to scream, shout, stomp, _something! _But, she remained calm and waited.

The guard led Enamore to the front of the room, all eyes on them.

When they got before Hera, the guard sheathed the sword. Enamore had not looked at her once, since walking in. The same deal as the day they met. He looked at the floor, respectfully, and bowed.

"Look at me," she commanded. Like the first day.

No tricks this time, no looking above her head. He looked up and directly into her eyes. The spark was as strong, if not stronger than the first time. They both shook violently in their souls, but so subtly in their bodies that no one noticed. Except for the guard who was now smirking behind his visor.

The sparks were still going off between them like fireworks. Hera finally looked away and at the guard to save herself from further future reactions that may occur above her control.

"Who are you?" she hissed at the guard.

The guard curtsied, drawing off his helmet. A golden-haired youth, with bluish-gray or grayish-blue eyes, and a Cupid bow mouth now stood before Hera, cocky as all can be. Several ladies fainted, others stared long and hungrily. Some older women tsked at the boy's arrogant posture as he put his hand on his hip, but they stared even more lustfully than the younger women.

"Eramis," Hera hissed, answering her own question.

"You look good." He smirked.


	18. Chapter 17

It was dusk.

The sun, sinking deep into the wide, dark flesh of the horizon, drew the blanket of night after it. And a woman, numb from the cold of her own sorrow, was numb to the cold of the chilling air that stirred her hair up and rippled her dress, like the tiny hands of the mischievous urchins in the square that were always trying to get a peek of her body under the dress.

But she could print her palm on a urchins cheek. The air had no cheek to palm; so it was ruthless. And unusually persistent. Perhaps the doings of some lecherous god.

Weighed down by her sorrows, she sunk down into the wet sand, where the lips of the ocean lingered, pooling around her knees and wetting her dress.

And she just cried, adding her tears to the immense womb of the ocean, desiring to impregnate it with her sorrow, so that anything who drank from this freshwater ocean, would feel her pain deep inside them.

The air grew frenzied, ripping her dress away from her torso, exposing one breast. In an instant - she swore she could've imagined it- but it had felt that the air had solidified for a moment into the form of a hand and had pinched her breast before she could recover and cover herself.

_What god is this? _She wondered. _Zeus?_

She swayed and trembled as she shakily got to her feet, the air stirring up the world around her, cold whips slashing at her body.

She turned to take a step, and found she couldn't move.

The water had clung to her ankle and had begun to drag her backwards into its abysmal pit.

The air howled with glee and dove in.

She screamed- so loud it was silent.

A wave rose over her. The air happily reached for her.

And then black.

"Noamora...Noamora..."


	19. Chapter 18

_Imagine a girl of nine summers, tanned of nine summers, as radiant as nine summers. A poppied up field she lays in, her body wet with the river she had just swam in. The beaming sun; the chorusing birds; the blowing wind..._

_...someone watching..._

_You can see what she cannot. The shadowy outline of a man hidden in background of this beautiful scene, approaching. Somehow, he carries the shadow with him, even in the blinding light of the sun, he is still indecipherable. He is almost above her now..._

_His hand is outstretched to her; his eyes are angry, but with lust..._

_He salivates._

_A bird shrieks._

_A strand of drool falls from his lips to her forehead._

_Her eyes flicker open as her body rolls on instinct._

_She is up, he is bent over grabbing air. _

_We see Zeus; she sees danger. She runs. He follows. _

_He follows until he realizes she is so much faster. Then he begins to chase._

_But, she is faster than him, still._

_He lags as she runs out of sight. He curses her. _

_"From Zeus you ran, so forever will you run. If you rest, Death will catch you."_

_And so for years she ran. She ate berries from trees and bushes and ran into rivers to drink. To stop, she noticed, would result in her coughing up blood and it would be harder to breath until she ran again. But, as she ran, her stamina grew with her. And her speed. _

_One day, as she stepped into the river for her daily drink, her feet stayed above the surface as she sped across it to the other side. She tried again; and again, she ran over the water to the other side. She had to lean sideways and splash water into her mouth in order to satisfy her thirst._

_But the months sped by as she steadily grew faster. Until one day, she simply outraced Time._

_She exists in a place where Time doesn't exist now. It's still the same world she knew, but here nothing changes. She will never age, and she will be exactly in the same condition that she entered this world in, forever. She no longer has to run. She sees people, but they do not see her because she is vibrating at such a high speed. In fact, she is running so fast, she is everywhere at the same moment, but only conscious of the position she's in. It's hard to explain but..._

"Teacher, is she here right now?"

The old man looked around the circle of his pupils and focused on the slender, bright-eyed kid who asked that question. The teacher smiled. "Yes, and no," he answered. "She is everywhere, but only for a moment. Infinite moments, if you will."

The boys in the circle all scratched their heads, no doubt confused.

The same boy raised his hand.

"Yes?"

"What's her name?" the boy asked.

"Oh!" the teacher clapped. "A nice, easy question. This one won't stress your minds at all. Her name is Antiope, which sounds like..."

"Antelope!" the boys all cried out.

The teacher smiled and nodded.

"So, is that where the story ends?" the same boy asked. "She just continues to exist out of Time, doing nothing?"

"Oh, for the time being," the teacher chuckled. "But no, no. Legend has it that she will soon be part of a very special quest and aid in helping a hero, or villian, if you prefer, in his journey."

"A villian?" the boy questioned. "Is she evil? Why would she help a villian?"

"My goodness, Amareus! You always ask so many questions! But, that is fine, m'boy. You see, it is all a matter of perspective. The main character of this story will bring true love, and be considered a hero. But he will also break up an old love, and for that, he will be considered a villian."

Amareus was silent. "No other questions?" the teacher quipped.

"Actually..."

All the other boys groaned. Even the teacher had to stifle one.

"Go on," the teacher sighed. In all honesty, though, he had a fondness for the boy and admired the boys curiosity. At least, he was paying attention, and his questions weren't all that bad.

"Was the old love true love?" Amareus asked.

"Once, perhaps," the teacher replied. "But time eventually wears away all things."

"So if even true love fades...then...This hero is wasting his or her time then?"

"Wait, a her?!" one of the boys guffawed. "Girls _can't be_ heroes. That's preposterous!"

"Anyway!" The teacher interjected. "The hero never wastes time if_ they_ do something good."

"Teacher, how would you characterize true love anyway?" Amareus asked.

"Aaand enough questions for today!" The teacher clapped his hands. "Go play!"

The teacher sighed in relief as Amareus rushed off with the other kids. Then he groaned in frustration as he began to try to come up with an answer to Amareus last question.

_What is true love anyway? Amareus, m'boy, I don't think I even know._

**A/N: So, I'm adding to the cast of characters. I just hope I can keep track of them all! **

**All my followers, are you my corps or my corpses? Review!**


	20. Chapter 19

_She cries when no one is around to hear her sobs or to see her tears. Her flawless skin is contorted by the merciless hands of grief, and her eyes are swollen from the vicious blows of betrayal. Her pillow is her only friend; it catches her tears and cradles her head in its fluffy embrace. It does not speak, and perhaps that is for the best. What words can you say in moments like these?_

_She knows she is beautiful. She sees the beauty with her own eyes reflected in her bedroom mirrors. But she doesn't feel her beauty. Zeus cheats on her; the men down-cast their eyes in her presence; and the women look upon her with pity. Even her servant girls look down upon her with pity! Who knows how many of them Zeus had made passes at, or even had lain with already?_

_This was how she had spent many years of her existence after their wonderful 300 year old honeymoon...in solitude...in painful memories...in tears..._

_Until..._

_"Hear ye, hear ye," he had shouted from the table-top on which he had now stood. _

_The entire banquet was focused on the young man who had scampered atop the table so late in their feast. "He must be drunk," one of the men whispered conpiratorially to his companion who, if he had been paying much attention too, would've noticed that, was staring at the man on top of the table with an eye of pleasant memories that involved many sleepless nights and slept in days. In fact, many of the women were quite 'intimate' with Eramis._

_"I propose a toast!" he hollered. _

_The crowd erupted in cheers and many cups and goblets of wine were lifted into the air. _

_"To King Zeus, may you continue to reign supreme..."_

_Cheers. The clanking of goblets. They had thought he had finished._

_"...and to continue to bed the women of Gaia for many years to come!"_

_As if cut by a sword, the cheers instantly died down as Eramis took the opportunity to take a long swig of his goblet. Eyes turned to Zeus._

_Zeus slowly placed his goblet down. "What did you say, my boy?" _

_"Aye, your boy? I very well might be!"_

_One of the men at Eramis' table immediately jumped onto the table and clamped his hand over Eramis' mouth. "Sorry, your Majesty, Eramis here is very sorry. Very sorry, sir. Aren't you, Eramis?" Eramis laughed. "Indeed. As repentance, I propose another toast..."_

_Zeus subtly nodded. Eramis' friend sighed in relief, as did the rest of the people in the hall. Eramis was very well-liked and they did not want to see him beheaded. _

_"To Queen Hera."_

_Eramis' friend groaned, as did the other people in the hall. Eramis continued:_

_"To the most beautiful Queen in the Heavens, may you continue to bless our dreams with your beauty. And let no woman who may pass before you, ever make you feel inferior to them in any way, shape, or form. And we drink!"_

_He gazed deeply into her eyes as he drank, the crowd following hesitantly right after. Even Zeus drank with narrowed eyes, suspicious, but ultimately oblivious to the hidden meanings in his toast. But Hera understood every last one. And for the first time, in many years, she felt beautiful._

_He had shown up to every party after that. Many times under disguise; but she could not forget that look in his eyes. And despite him jumping atop a table at every party and proposing ever-scandalous, ever-subtle toasts to Hera, he had a charm that even Zeus succumbed too. "He's much too fun to kill just yet," Zeus would declare in the bedroom. "And what if he does happen to be my son? That...that wouldn't be too bad...Not bad at all."_

_But Hera didn't particularly like that thought, as she had grown quite strong feelings for this young Eramis. Even with the tales of Eramis' countless conquests, she could not help but be attracted to him. He reminded her a young Zeus, albeit more charming, and less powerful...and maybe this is what attracted her to him. She had good times with the young Zeus, and Eramis certainly promised good times._

And now he stood before her with the man from the dungeon. Two men she had strong feelings for. One she had an unconsummated desire for; and for the other, she had strong feelings of love turned to bitterness and hate.

As she gazed upon Enamore, she felt electrified. As she gazed upon Eramis, even more devilish and handsome than she remembered, she felt hate...but also an irresistible desire for him. She could not do this. Not here. Not now.

Her vision clouded. She could hear concerned gasps, voices, and footsteps trudging in her direction. With her last remaining strength, she lifted her arm. "Guards, do not let those two leave!"

She fainted.

A/N: My gratitude to all who reviewed the last chapter. Many good ideas. This story for the most part is improvised, and many of the reviewers ideas are so out-of-the-box or common sense, that I might incorporate them into the story as I go along. So review and, who knows, you might see something you said you wanted in one of the upcoming chapters!

We shall write this story together!


	21. Chapter 20

The morning had never seemed so cruel; or so mocking. The birds chirped gaily as Hera groaned in agony, her head throbbing from where it had pounded on the floor the night before. Thin slices of sunlight slipped under her drawn drapes, and slit through the darkness across the floor of her chambers. One errant ray trespassed onto her bed and pressed its warm blade across her forearm, cutting down through the deep cold until it burned into her veins. She drew back with silent contempt, drawing the drapes down further.

A knock sounded on her door, echoing through her chamber like the sound of a cathedral bell. She cursed, burrowing herself down deeper in the tangle of sheets and pillows that enveloped her in a fluffy cocoon.

"Come in," she finally called out, instantly regretting it as her chapped lips cracked painfully bleeding out. Her throat burned as she swallowed, her saliva feeling like she had just swallowed a thousand bits of glass, all scraping down the walls of her throat. She grimaced, reaching blindly for the glass of water that had been placed beside her bed. It was found to be empty, and she smashed it on the floor in her anger. A thousand bits of glass either glittered on her floor in the sunlight like little crystals, or hid themselves from Hera's wrath in the deep shadows that engulfed her chambers. She eyed a particularly sharp one with mad interest, tremendously tempted to take it and bring it across her throat.

She was disturbed from her sick reverie by a careful cough in a corner of dark somewhere. "My Queen," followed, "You are recovering wonderfully! Here!, another glass of water to drink. I will return with broom and pan to recover the glass already broken. Now rest, rest!"

Hera had not opened her eyes as the voice came closer and layed a glass of water, presumably, on the table bedside beside her bed. The servant girl -it could only be a girl- whoever it was, disappeared under the cloak of shadows and Hera heard a soft click as the door closed. Almost instantly, another knock came. She called out again, cracking her lips for a second time, and running her tongue over the opened wounds to soothe the pain with the balm of her saliva, but her tongue was dry, heavy, and felt like sandpaper. She sipped the glass, and returned it to its former place.

Closing her eyes again, Hera settled into her bed, drawing the covers up snugly around her shoulders. Three pairs of heavy feet padded across her chamber floor and stopped before her bed. Only her guards could enter her chambers like this, and only under certain circumstsnces. She was hopefully waiting to hear a report of how successfully they had managed to capture the two men, when:

"They escaped."

A silence descended on them, stretching and expanding uncomfortably around the guards as Hera reposed peacefully beneath their gaze. But they knew not to believe in the illusion that their Queen was content with what she had just heard. And Hera didn't deign to look at the pathetic guards who had, _had _both of them - Eramis and Enamore- in their grasps, and had still managed to let them go. With two words they had shattered her hopes in two, more pieces to be added to the broken glass already on the floor. Hera heaved a great sigh to show her displeasure, as the guards watched her, fearful of her next move.

"How?" she rasped. "How did they manage to escape from a banquet hall full of expertly trained guards?" She reached lazily for a glass of water with long, pale fingers as she waited for them to reply.

They knew they had blundered badly by allowing those two men escape. They also knew that their mistake could cost them their lives. But, they had hope in one thing that transpired as they all gazed down at their Queen. The guards had seen Hera fall, along with everyone else in the hall. But only a chosen few had seen the after-effects. As a result of the fall, Hera lay in bed, sickly pale and weak. She closed her eyes often, as if troubled by a tremendous headache, and she constantly massaged her temples with vigorous fury. They watched her hold the glass of water with trembling fingers, and a thought occurred to them simultaneously: _We can kill her if we had to. _Even deprived of their weapons, they didn't doubt they could find an alternative tool of death - strangle her with their hands, or a pillow maybe. _Yes, we will kill her - but only as a last resort._

One guard cleared his throat. "Eramis, somehow, managed to elude our guards."

"Obviously,"the Queen snapped. "But, _how?"_

The guard winced at the Queen's tone and shot a quick side-glance at his comrades for support. They gave none as they examined something of interest on the floor. He looked back at the Queen, fingers twitching. "Somehow," he offered lamely.

Hera closed her eyes again, wearily rubbing at her temples. "You are a fool," she told him. He conceded with his head bowed. "But you are brave to speak to me first. So, you will behead one of your fellow officers. But only _one. _You may choose whom."

They all froze, trying to wrap their heads around what she had just said. The first guard visibly sighed in relief as he realized that he would live to see another day. _Curse those other two! They did not jump to my aid when my head was in the jaws of the lion. _The other two briefly glanced at each other, panicked, and fell at the Queen's beside, uttering all sorts of things, anything that would save them. The first guard watched them with smug satisfaction, as he contemplated which one of them to behead. After all, he hadn't been the one to actually let Eramis and Enamore go. Those two had just brought him along to speak for them, promising to jump in and help if he faltered, which they had not done.

Hera silenced their utterances with a sharp gesture. "Enough!" She motioned to the first guard who looked down at his companions with smugness and contempt. "Go; bring the sword of the one whom you have chosen to slay."

The guard took a step towards the door, then faltered. "I..." He turned back and faced his two companions, unsure of which to behead. Both of them were vile, disgusting, lying, cheating scoundrels, but...they had, had some great times together. Could he really take one of their lives? And what about the one he _didn't _behead? Would he forever have to look over his shoulder in fear of the survivor coming after _his _own head?

The Queen seemed to sense the reason for his hesitation. It only amused her. "Either you or them," she called out languidly.

He shook his head and exited the room. They had left their swords at the entrance with one of the guards, who had placed it neatly against the wall. He took a breath, closed his eyes, spun around six times, and reached out to take a sword at random. He opened his eyes and making sure it wasn't his own sword, he turned to re-enter the room when a voice spoke to him.

"Where goest thou with thy sword?"

It was one of the guards for Hera's chambers. His black armor glistened omniously in the flickering flames of the torch on the wall. An equally black helmet protected his face and obscured the identity of the wearer from being known. His tone seemed mocking and light, but the inability to see his expression made it hard to discern.

"He-...er, the _Queen, _said I should bring a sword in."

"Oh, did she now?"

"Yes."

"Any _particular _reason?"

"Er, well, see, she, I, uh..."He trailed off.

The chamber guard laughed. "Almost a complete sentence!" he jested. "But shall we attempt it again?"

It was more of a command than a question. So he attempted it again, for the heavy sword that the chamber guard had swinging from his waist if for anything. He swallowed. "I have to...behead one of my companions for...they failed to secure the capture of...erhm, Eramis and...eh, Enamore."

The guard stood straight up. "You speak so hesitatingly. But, if that is the case, you may re-enter. But," and he placed his gloved hand on the hilt of the sword, "I will be listening in. _Closely."_

Nodding, the guard nearly tripped as he went running back into the chambers.

"What took you?" the Queen snapped at him, for the second time that day.

"One of the guards," he panted. "Questioned me."

Hers frowned, then moved on. "Well? Have you decided who?"

He nodded, head bowed.

"Then proceed."

"Please." His companion begged, ignored.

He stepped forward, clearing his mind of all thoughts. He was at war, about to kill an enemy. It was life or death, him or them. The man at his feet was not a friend, not a human even, just...

He swung. The head tumbled and thumped across the floor; blood bubbling out of the man's neck like lava out of a volcano. The sword clattering to the floor as the guard stepped back, turning to retch.

The second companion stared in shock until the sword clattered to the floor like opportunity, and he seized it. The first guard was vulnerable, unaware of his surroundings and bent over as he vomitted. The second companion crossed over to him and unmercifully plunged the blade of the sword into the first guard's back. Now, blood spilled out of the guard's mouth, as he screams of pain finally turned silent.

The second companion pulled the sword out of the first guard's lifeless body and turned to the Queen. She could see the murderous gleam in his eyes and step as he moved towards her. She smirked. He stopped, confused, a moment before the door slammed off its hinges into the wall behind him The chamber guard rolled in, sword drawn, sweeping his gaze across the scene. In an instant, he had peiced everything together and, before the second companion could act, a sword protruded from his back. He fell to his knees, dropping the sword on the floor where he breathed his last breath.

Hera collapsed on her bed, chest rising and falling heavily. The guard stood. She looked over at him, gratefully. "Thank you."

He bowed deeply, and stood. "Will I be rewarded?"

"Oh, of course! You may have whatever you wish."

He chuckled. "I can still remember the first time you said that..."

She frowned, a slight smirk on her face, puzzled.

"...It sounded as beautiful then, as it is does now. _You _were as beautiful then as you are now."

Slowly, comprehension seeped in. The smirk slid off her face.

"Remembering?" He laughed, hands rising up. The helmet rose up with his hands over his head, his locks spilling out over his face. With a dramatic gesture, he brushed his hair away and grinned.

She regained her senses and rolled her eyes. "Eramis," she huffed. "I should have guessed."

Enamore had hidden outside, on the grass where he could daydream and gaze up at the sky. The sun warmed him and the birds sang pleasing songs to his ears. He inhaled the sweet smell of fresh air, and felt the green softness of the Earth under him. He couldn't feel any more happier. He closed his eyes and joyfully sighed.

And then a boot kicked him in the side.

"Up up!" Eramis laughed, seeing the dirty look Enamore was giving him. "The Queen awaits! And guess who she wants to see," he winked.

Eramis strode off, and Enamore followed in a daze still unsure if Eramis' wink meant the Queen wanted to see Eramis or him. He shrugged, but couldn't shake the feeling that something bad was about to happen.


	22. Chapter 21

It felt...refreshing...to just, once in awhile, stop, take a deep, _deep _breath, and take a look around at where you were and what was around you.

Trees.

Trees were around her.

And a lake.

But the lake was in front of her, not around - unless, she swam to the middle of it. She didn't want to do all of _that, _per say. But it would be nice to dip a foot in, wouldn't it? Just a dip.

Step, step, step.

_Wow, this is deep! Maybe I should swim to the middle.._

Momma always said she was too small to swim alone. But she was a big girl now. Uh-huh! One, two, three, four, uh...oh right, duh! _Five! _

Five was a big girl age, right?

_And I'm only going to swim to the middle and back again. Momma won't even know! And she'll be so proud, too! Hey, once she sees I can swim all by myself, maybe she'll let me do it again! _

She could hear her Momma screaming now, looking for her somewhere in the trees. _It's okay, Momma. I'm sorry I left without telling you, but I can DO this! _

Step, step.

_Kinda cold...and it's already up to my waist! _

"Annalise!"

_Oops! Better hurry now...Momma is catching up._

Step, step.

_Whoa! This is really, really deep. _

She was standing on tippy-toes, her dress billowing around her like a pink cloud. She couldn't see anything but pink, pink, pink. Could Momma see her? See how well she was doing? Was she at the middle of the lake yet?

"Annalise! Annalise!"

_Okay okay! Hmm...Just one more step and then I better turn back._

_Wait...where's the floor...uh-oh..._

_"_Oh...oh no! NO! Annalise!"

She was drifting...drifting...drifting away on her pretty pink dress towards somewhere.

_Where am I going? I wish I could see something._

A splash. Behind her. _Momma?_

"Annalise!"

_Yup. Its Momma. Well, nothing to do but wait, I guess...I am in so much trouble._

She looked up at the sky..._No clouds. That sucks..._And listened to the wet slaps of Momma swimming towards her.

Until, something ~_slithered~ _past her leg.

_What was that? _

Again, under her hand. It felt slimy... _scaly_. _Eww! Please don't let there be snakes...I hate snakes._

And they hated her, too. The last time she and a snake mixed, she ended up recovering from its toxin for almost a whole year. She shuddered.

_Okay...maybe they won't bother you if you don't bother them. So calm down, Momma is almost here to save you. _

But "almost" doesnt seem good enough when there's a snake wounding it's body around your waist..._coiling..._tighter and _tighter_ until it becomes difficult to breathe.

She had wanted to keep still, but she kicked out wildly as the snake squeezed harder. All it did was make the snake angrier. It released her. She inhaled the air deeply into her lungs, crying now. "Momma, please! Hurry! The snake is trying to kill me!"

_What if the snake was going after Momma? _"Momma!" she sobbed. "Watch out for the sna-"

...

She disappeared beneath the surface. Momma blinked water from her eyes.

"Annalise?..."

Something dark appeared, just under the surface, too evil to be seen by day. It floated there...staring at Momma, Momma staring at it.

It sunk down into the depths with her daughter.

A pink dress floated up.

"ANNALISE! **ANNALISE! ANNALIIIIIIIIIIIISE!**

...

Noamora awoke.


End file.
